XIX.
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ix days Salámán on the Camel rode,And then Remembrance of foregone ReproachAbode not by him; and upon the SeventhHe halted on the Seashore, and beheldAn Ocean boundless as the Heaven above,That, reaching its Circumference from KáfTo Káf, down to the Back of Gau and MahiDescended, and its Stars were Creatures' Eyes.The Face of it was as it were a RangeOf moving Mountains; or as endless HostsOf Camels trooping from all Quarters up,Furious, with the Foam upon their Lips.In it innumerable glittering FishLike Jewels polish-sharp, to the sharp EyeBut for an Instant visible, glancing throughAs Silver Scissors slice a blue Brocade;Though were the Dragon from its Hollow roused,The Dragon of the Stars would stare Aghast.Salámán eyed the Sea, and cast aboutTo cross it—and forthwith upon the ShoreDevis'd a Shallop like a Crescent Moon,Wherein that Sun and Moon in happy Hour,Enter'd as into some Celestial Sign;That, figured like a Bow, but Arrow-likeIn Flight, was feather'd with a little Sail,And, pitcht upon the Water like a Duck,So with her Bosom sped to her Desire.When they had sail'd their Vessel for a Moon,And marr'd their Beauty with the wind o' th' Sea,Suddenly in mid Sea reveal'd itselfAn Isle, beyond Description beautifulAn Isle that all was Garden; not a BirdOf Note or Plume in all the World but there;There as in Bridal Retinue array'dThe Pheasant in his Crown, the Dove in her Collar;And those who tuned their Bills among the TreesThat Arm in Arm from Fingers paralyz'dWith any Breath of Air Fruit moist and dryDown scatter'd in Profusion to their Feet,Where Fountains of Sweet Water ran, and roundSunshine and Shadow chequer-chased the Ground.Here Iram Garden seemed in SecresyBlowing the Rosebud of its Revelation;Or Paradise, forgetful of the DayOf Audit, lifted from her Face the Veil. Salámán saw the Isle, and thought no moreOf Further—there with Absál he sat down,Absál and he together side by sideRejoicing like the Lily and the Rose,Together like the Body and the Soul.Under its Trees in one another's ArmsThey slept—they drank its Fountains hand in hand—Sought Sugar with the Parrot—or in SportParaded with the Peacock—raced the Partridge—Or fell a-talking with the Nightingale.There was the Rose without a Thorn, and thereThe Treasure and no Serpent to beware—What sweeter than your Mistress at your sideIn such a Solitude, and none to Chide! Whisper'd one to Wámik—"Oh ThouVictim of the Wound of Azra,What is it that like a ShadowMovest thou about in SilenceMeditating Night and Day?"Wámik answered, "Even this—To fly with Azra to the Desert;There by so remote a FountainThat, whichever way one travell'dLeague on League, one yet should never,Never meet the Face of Man—There to pitch my Tent—for everThere to gaze on my Belovéd;Gaze, till Gazing out of GazingGrew to Being Her I gaze on,She and I no more, but in One.Undivided Being blended,All that is not One must everSuffer with the Wound of Absence;And whoever in Love's CityEnters, finds but Room for One,And but in Oneness Union."
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